Deliverer of News
by Hada-Fiction
Summary: This was the day. I knew what I wanted and what I wanted was you. One-shot request from theheroandhisbrit on Tumblr: "Would you write me a fluffy love confession for USUK; Human AU? As long as it's fluffy . . ."


Written to cheer up theheroandhisbrit for the simple reason that no one does it better than USUK. Again, I can't attest to its quality since I wrote ad lib. Big hugs to you, Davy, and I hope you like it.

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><p>"Mhm, yes, if you could deliver it to number twelve-fourteen in the East Estates housing. Give me a ring on the 'com and I'll let you in."<p>

"All righty! I'll be there in thirty minutes or less, guaranteed!" I replied. The voice over the phone mumbled something I couldn't hear but then cleared his throat and began again.

"Yes, yes. Well, 'til then." Then he hung up. That voice. Oh, I'd known that voice for a long while. I'd known that face for a long time too whenever I'd make deliveries to him. If I thought that his voice sounded nice, in person he was even better.

When I met him for the first time he had decided to stop into the shop in person for scones, I think. His slender figure came through the door in a thick wool coat, dusting off his dirty blond hair of the snowflakes coming down outside, and walked up the counter with little hesitation.  
>One of the things I remember about the moment I looked him in the eyes to greet him was how beautiful his expression was. He wasn't smiling but he wasn't frowning either. He was just there and not ashamed or embarrassed of anything, fearless even in a domestic cafe, showing no apology to anyone. The green eyes he had were sharp but they carried depth and strength I could see in his stance and the upward tilt of his head. If I didn't care about anyone laughing at me, I would've said that he was majestic; mysterious and suave, even.<p>

He asked for a coffee and that was it: I fell in love.

After he left, I heard from my coworkers that coffee was a rare order from him; he was a tea lover to the end. What a forbidden love. It was through several calls to the cafe that I learned he lived in a set of apartments on the other side of town, on the corner of Main if you were wondering, and sometimes ordered delivery to his office in a big building I forget the name of. Whenever I had the chance, I was volunteering to take his order and soon I was who he called because I knew what he liked. Our place was small but got plenty of customers because of our great service and awesome stock. We served pastries and sweets, made cakes and cookies, and served some local English dishes for lunch, dinner, and breakfast to boot. Of course, you can't forget the tea—-they liked tea like no one's business—-but there were enough customers buying coffee that I thanked them for keeping it on the menu.

Today it was red velvet scones and Chamomile tea. He must not be in such a good mood. After all, he's the one who always told me that pastry complimented the tea and wouldn't accept my "sub-par knowledge" when we first started really talking. When he started looking at me and deciding that "you'll do". I packed up his order and started up my motorcycle, from there it was a quick merge into traffic and I was off.

I swerved into a lane with my signal on and headed off towards a short cut through a shopping center. I wasn't out to run anyone over but I did take some liberties with the traffic laws. It was just too important to never disappoint him, more than anyone else even if it was just my job. Of course, I'll get a speeding ticket someday; just not today. Today I was going to do the one thing I didn't think I'd be doing.

I stopped at a corner store close to his house, steeped the tea in a special thermos and closed the lid, ready to ride again. I knew by now that his tea only needed two minutes max for the best flavor and that the heat from the thermos would keep the scones warm. I knew that by the time I set that cup in his hands it would be "just so" and I see that smile of approval. That was I was addicted to and, as far as addictions go, I was glad it was him.

I parked the bike in the parking garage and walked into the building. The front desk was empty at the moment—-it was late after all—-and I walked past it a door with an iron grating on it. The left side of the doorframe had an intercom with the list of tenants written next to the buttons. Just think about Friends, that T.V. show, add a richer decorator and you've got it. I pressed the button next to the nameplate reading "Mr. Kirkland".

"Good Evening, Mr. Kirkland." A response came back right away.

"Ah, Jones, you're on time. I'm glad you've learned to do that much." I took a deep breath. It's show time, I thought. The buzz of the intercom broke the silence and the door unlocked, letting me pull it open and head up the stairs with the order in tow. He opened the door just as I reached it, like clockwork, and stood aside to let me in. His apartment was stylish and nice looking but it also looked like a place where even I could still feel comfortable. I entered the living room and on the coffee table was a tea set already set in place and a tray to lay the scone. It made me smile that even now when he was bothered that it wouldn't do to drink from a styrofoam cup.

I got to work setting up as he sat himself on the couch in front of it to watch. My hands felt shaky pouring into the teacup so I started a conversation to quiet nerves. "So, chamomile, huh?" Mr. Kirkland hummed, leaning forward to take the teacup when it was full. "Something stressing you out? I remember that was what it was good for."

"I can't sleep. I'd rather not take a pill if I can help it and I have a big day tomorrow." Mr. Kirkland looked into his cup for a moment and then, with an absent stare, watched me take out the scones. He frowned before resting his free hand on my wrist. I froze and kept my eyes on the scones when he set down his tea and leaned in closer. "What's got you on edge, Jones? You'll spill the scones on the carpet at this rate."

I didn't dare move, thinking of the note in my pocket. Today was the day that I would confess and even just a warm hand on my own tripped me up. I felt a burn in my heart as I turned to look him in the eyes and saw them searching for something, maybe even seemed concerned. Maybe he saw how nervous I was, my heart was running away from me after all, because he rose and ran his along my spine to my lower back.

"Here, sit down for a moment. Surely you have a moment to spare." He waited until I lowered myself on to his couch before he returned to his place, sitting next to me. "Now, why so quiet this evening? I haven't seen you like this before."

I was quiet for a moment trying to breathe before I swallowed hard and glanced back at him. He had picked up his tea again but kept his eyes on me, waiting for a response. "Well," I started, "have you ever been in love Mr. Kirkland?"

I saw his eyes light in surprise but it went away when he spoke, "I have. They were silly things, all of them. Yet, you are in love, aren't you?" He seemed to speak quieter and the subject. I wanted to blurt everything out and tell him everything I've ever thought about him. Instead, I lied.

"My friend. He's in love—-with another guy." Mr. Kirkland tilted his head, his eyebrows came together a little. I liked how something so small was enough to clue me in on his feelings. He wasn't always this open. It wasn't something I could see when I first met him but it was evident now.

"Does that make you sad, perhaps?" he asked. I shook my head. I was losing my words as he examined me. "Are you angry with him for loving a man?" I could hear it in his voice how it grew flat at the idea and knew that it was now or never. If there was any time to tell the truth it should be now.

"No," I said, "I don't think it's a problem. Actually, I'm a little jealous." He hummed after a moment and set down his empty cup. When he turned back to me it was with a wry smile.

"They must be wonderful together to be so jealous. Do you want what they have?" I gulped, he seemed to be okay with everything for now. How would it be when the tables turned? It was always different when it was happening to you, I remember hearing once. I wondered how true that was. I nodded and tried to smile at him. Mr. Kirkland sighed and smiled a little brighter at me. I could feel my heart pang at that look and my cheeks heat up.

"Cheer up, lad. With your good looks, outstanding knowledge of tea, and the concept of timeliness you're sure to catch someone's eye," he said. He laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed for a brief moment. I could feel my nerves leave me seeing his dignified look, lips pressed into a line. He was still looking for something but I couldn't take it.

"You're right," I laughed, "It shouldn't be too hard. Plenty of fish in the sea and junk." I jumped up and finished putting the scones on the plate, taking care to keep my eyes on my task. Mr. Kirkland muttered something like "indeed" as I gathered the delivery box in my hands and moved to stand when I passed.

"Oh, don't worry about it Mr. K. I'll let myself out." He came closer even then so I put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. "You've gotta try to relax, remember? You're big day tomorrow?" He seemed to remember himself after that and nodded, moving back to the table. His back was turned to me then and I seized the opportunity while it lasted.

"All righty, then. I'll just leave your copy of the bill right here for you." He hummed his agreement. I set the receipt on the kitchen counter facedown and moved to the door. "Thanks for talking to me, Mr. K. Hope you get some sleep."

"Yes," he said, it almost sounded sad, "Goodbye then, Alfred."

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><p>The trek down to my bike was quiet and passing decorative mirrors in the hallways reflected my sad face. I was Alfred F. Jones but I didn't feel like him. Everything up until this moment felt lost, a waste, and most of all a failure. I couldn't tell him anything. That note in my pocket was supposed to be the finisher to any other doubts he had. It was supposed to be the final combo, that knockout punch, only I would've punched him with love or something.<p>

Would he find it locking up the door when I left? Would he throw it away on accident? on purpose? I got on my bike and pulled out of the garage, my thoughts were filled with Mr. Kirkland. I waited to find out the outcome tomorrow with a nervous stomach but nothing happened.

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><p>It's been weeks since then.<p>

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><p>"Hey, Al. We're out of creamer out in the lobby, can you go back in storage and restock?" My manager gave me keys to the closet and I flashed her a thumbs up. She rolled her eyes but smiled as she turned back to helping a customer. I passed Jake, one of my coworkers on the way as he was coming on shift.<p>

"Hey, mate. Long time no see! It's been a few." He clapped me on the shoulder and laughed.

"Hey. Yeah, it has." I smiled back but I wasn't feeling it. He tilted his head at me with a strange smile, keeping me from going any farther.

"How're holding up, Al? You look knackered. Is that dragon lady giving you heaps?"

"Something like that," I laughed, "You know how it is." It was a stock answer to almost anything but he didn't say much more except to agree. We left to do our jobs after that and a couple more hours into my shift left me straightening the shelves in the break room. I was hammering new anchors into wall when Jake came back to tap me on the shoulder.

"Mind coming out front? A regular is asking for you." I frowned. I didn't remember anyone being particular about which barista they ordered from. Jake didn't give me much time to think about it because he pulled me off my stool and led me to the counter.

"Better watch out though, mate, this one looks angry." Jake whispered just before I came face to face with Mr. Kirkland.

He did look angry. There was no doubt about it. He had lighter green eyes, standing with his arms crossed and furrowed eyebrows. His look was freezing the coffee in the brewer and making me shiver. I stepped up with half-smile but his expression didn't change.

"Uh, hi Mr. K! How can I-" He held up a hand. It pivoted into a crooked finger that beckoned me to follow him as he stepped away from the counter. I gulped at his lack of words and followed after him wondering how much this could be related to my note.

He sat in a booth away from the few customers sitting in and waited until I sat before he held up a piece of paper. It was the note I'd written. Welp, I was fucked. "I'm sure you recognize this, yes?"

I nodded knowing there wasn't a point in hiding it. He placed it on the table between up and rested his hand on it but never took his eyes away from mine. I tried to sink into my seat the way his eyes shone in the light and that frown set firm in place.

"Well," he started, "I have to say that our last encounter was a cowardly display of your affections. Never have I been courted in such a manner. You come by with the thoughts of giving me this note without telling me your intentions." I opened my mouth to say I'd tried but he wouldn't let me get a word in.

"Worst of all were all the questions used to fish for a favorable response. That is not how this works and I certainly won't entertain it. I am appalled." He drew out his last sentence all the way to the "d" and I cringed, ready to throw myself into a dumpster. I don't think I'll ever try this again, I thought.

Mr. Kirkland was cutting into me like he hadn't before, never like before because it wasn't personal. This, it was beyond personal. It was opening up my chest and hoping he wouldn't pour alcohol on me. What I got instead was bleach and it was killing me and burning at the same time. I didn't think I could take anymore. After all, he was the one who disappeared for weeks without telling me what he felt. How was this all my fault for doing it wrong? Wait-

"However," he said after our silence dragged on, "that was what I thought before I had read the entirety of the message." My jerked up in surprise to see him smiling with his arms crossed again. But this time it was with a mischievous tone that he continued.

"Look like we'll have to work on your orator skills before you'll be of any use to anyone, let alone me. Be at my apartment after work and we'll speak more of this in detail." I was blown away by what I was hearing and he laughed at my expression before standing to pat my shoulder. "Remember, don't be late, lad. You can win a heart by missing your chance."

I watched him walk towards the door before I ran and grabbed his hand. He looked back at me calm as can be and raised an eyebrow.

"I just want to know, where were you all this time?" His eyebrow furrowed for a moment before he had some insight and they rose.

"Didn't I tell you? I was due for business out of the country the day following your last visit. I needed to get enough sleep before boarding the plane." I laughed once unbelieving, then really smiled like I had before that crazy plan. When everything was right, and now it was getting better than right. I let go of his sleeve and chuckled.

"Oh, that's right! I forgot," I said. I forgot you're a book editor. He nodded and gave a small smile before he waved me away and stepped out the door. That was Kirkland code for "Don't you have work to do? Hurry up and finish so you can see me sooner," I think. He didn't need to tell me at all.

Later on that night we talked about a ton of things but one thing we talked of most was my note. Being who he is, Arthur—-that's his first name, he even asked me to call him that from now on!—-said that it was honest and raw and, more importantly, it told him everything he'd wanted to hear. All on the back of a receipt.

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><p>Knackered: Aussie slang for "tired"<p>

Giving heaps: Aussie slang for "giving trouble"

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><p>Let me know what you think in a Review or at my tumblr: hada-da-demon . tumblr . c o m  a s k

Remove those spaces and that the whole address.


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